Lemonade
by Mistress Sarcasm
Summary: When life handed Gwen Hotchkiss lemons . . . (Gwen/?)


Lemonade  
  
The sheets crinkled and conformed to the two forms laying side by side on the bed. Tanned and pale skin collided as limbs intertwined, hidden beneath the veil cool moonlight.  
  
  
She was the first to stir.  
  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed with her feet dangling close to the floor, she carefully wrapped the sheet around her chest as she stood. Dragging the sheet behind her like the train of a ball gown, she grabbed a pair of shoes from under the bed and a dress from a nearby drawer. Quickly and quietly, she slid the stilettos onto her feet and let the dress fall over her shoulders. Glancing over her shoulder she climbed the trail of his spine with her eyes, wanting to paint the canvas of his back with her fingers again. His torso rose and fell with soft breathing, closed eyelids sheltering slumbering eyes.  
  
  
She began to rise when she felt a hand pressing on her shoulder. He was now sitting beside her, the rest of the sheet twisted around his waist.  
  
  
"Where are you going? It isn't morning is it?" he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.  
  
  
She shook her head as he looked out the window, a few spots of night peering out from behind the drapes.  
  
  
"I'm going out."  
  
  
"Why? It has to be past midnight."  
  
  
"Please, no Twenty Questions tonight. I need to do some ... thinking."  
  
  
She contemplated his disappointed expression. She loved the way he moistened his lips before speaking, cleaning the palette for a fresh start. He always had a look of contemplation, there was always activity behind his blue gaze.  
  
  
"And you can't think here?" he said slyly, nimbly sliding his fingers around her waist and pressing his cheek against hers.  
  
  
She leaned into him, reaching back with her right arm to feel the nape of his neck with her hand. She ran her fingers through his tussle of brown hair, massaging the sensitive threads on the base of his neck. His mouth ensnared her earlobe, and he ran his tongue through the cold, silver loop of her earring. He captured her moan his hand as he ran the pad of his thumb along the lush satin of her lower lip. His skin was raw and foreign, but it was also warm and welcoming. It felt soft and sweet against her powdered flesh. She giggled sweetly as his brazen teeth brushed against her jaw while he dropped kisses down the line of her chin. As he pulled her close, she spooned her body to fit his shape. Her body always conformed to fit the frame of his arms. Her eyes fluttered shut like the delicate beating of a butterfly's wings as his lips pressed against her temple.  
  
  
"Please. Stay," he mumbled into her hair.  
  
  
Her body fighting ferociously with her mind, she pressed her forearm against his bare chest and pushed herself forward. She stood and snatched her purse from a solitary chair, trying hard not to look back so that she would not be captured by his eyes again. She stared at the hollow frame of the door and stepped forward as he captured her hand in his. She slammed her eyes shut, clenching them tightly until her head ached. She felt his thumb gently rubbing the palm of her hand and she only wanted to melt into his arms again. Instead, she squeezed his hand gently before walking quickly towards her escape.  
  
  
"Gwen ..." a voice called out to her, but it only met a closed door.  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
Gwen winced as the sour liquid shot through her taste buds. She gripped the lemon by it's dimpled, yellow skin and removed the fruit from her mouth.  
  
  
"Another," she said hoarsely, shoving her glass towards the bartender.  
  
  
He obliged, pushing a filled shot glass towards her. She snatched a salt shaker from the counter and sprayed the white crystals onto her wrist. She licked the granules like a greedy kitten before tossing the golden liquid down her throat. It was cold and coppery, like melted pennies. She took another fresh lemon from a waiting bowl and bit down, letting the tang cleanse her palette. It was like a repetitive cycle, a comfortable routine. She'd down glass after glass until she couldn't see straight. She'd wobble out of the bar on her Manolo Blahniks and collapse into his waiting arms.  
  
  
She'd stumble in and lay her head on his lap while he stroked her hair until she fell asleep. She'd wake up to bacon, eggs and aspirin waiting for her on her bedside table. He'd sit down beside her with his arm over her shoulders as she ate. Sometimes he'd make her breakfast into a smiley face just to make her laugh. He cherished her mirth like a hidden treasure, for it wasn't very often that she let a genuine laugh escape her lips.   
  
  
He once called her Alice. She had looked at him quizzically and he had given her a half smile and said, "Tumbled down the rabbit hole and can't get out. Poor lost little girl."  
  
  
She had been falling for some time now, and had become used to the downward spiral. For almost a year she had been in a downward trajectory, peppered with bumps and spikes.  
  
  
But he caught her.  
  
  
He kept her from crashing through the floorboards and into her own personal hell.  
  
  
And she was using him.  
  
  
Using his body like a battery, absorbing his energy as if it were the only thing keeping her alive. The only time she felt alive was with him. But she was still using him, and so she was overcome with the need to push him away.  
  
  
Gwen stirred a slim finger through her glass, the tequila lapping against her skin. She was about to bring the drink to her lips, when a familiar voice startled her.  
  
  
"Hello Gwen."  
  
  
The voice was thick and even, plagued with stiff formality.  
  
  
"Hello Ethan."  
  
  
And they said he wasn't a natural born Crane. He certainly possessed their flair for detached politeness. That's what got underneath her skin the most. He didn't hate her, she was just ... there. This cool feeling of indifference flowed between them and it made the hairs on her arms prickle.  
  
  
He looked nervous, his hands jammed into the pockets of his khakis, looking down at his shuffling feet like a schoolboy. She ran her finger along the edge of her glass and tilted her head coyly. He was about to speak when he became distracted by something behind her. She was about to turn around when she felt rough figures spark against her skin. They played with the straps of her dress before moving up the side of her neck and fiddling with her earring. Her breath caught in her chest as his voice played with her sensitive lobe and his chin rested on her shoulder.  
  
  
"Isn't it a little late to be out on a school night young man?" he said in the direction of Ethan. She detected the slightest hint of a husky foreign accent and smiled.  
  
  
Ethan squinted at the stranger and jutted out his lower lip. The stranger wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Gwen and it was all she could do to repress a laugh. She thought she heard Ethan snort impatiently, but by the time she turned to face him again he had disappeared off into the crowd.   
  
  
She stood to face him, and ran her hand over the bare patch of chest between his open shirt collar. He leaned in and massaged her neck with his lips. Her back arched in a silent scream as he nibbled at her collarbone.  
  
  
"David..." she said, the single word wrapped in layers of breaths as it escaped her lips.  
  
  
"Better calm down darling," he muttered into her ear, "or the ladies will be saying 'I'll have what she's having'".  
  
  
Gwen's face became flushed with red. David laughed heartily as he wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders. They stepped out into the night, only to be greeted by a thrash of fierce rain. Gwen grasped onto David's shirt and he pulled her tight against his chest, wrapping his coat around her. She felt the pounding of his heart against her cheek and her head lulled gently with the rising and falling of his chest. His warm breath caressed her ear and she shuddered. Even the smallest gesture always got to her.  
  
  
She remembered the first time she had felt the same sensation. It had been a humid day, and she had sat on a park bench placidly sipping her lemonade. It was then when she first her that rugged voice against her shoulder.  
  
  
"That drink may be laced with artificial sweetener, but deep down it is still the same sour beverage it always was."  
  
  
She had scowled at his impertinence, but was further horrified when he had boldly reached forward, grabbed her drink and took a sip. He had rolled the drink between his hands while admiring her rippled yellow sun dress stick to her skin with the humidity.  
  
  
"But beneath the fake sweetness, it still tastes damn good."  
  
  
He was always able to wade through the piles of false pretenses she had carefully buried herself beneath. It was this ability that made her feel equally cherished and vile. The fact that he could see her when she barely recognized her own reflection. The fact that he adored her without question and she still felt like she was only pulling his puppet strings. The fact that she was still gripped with the fear that if she gave her heart to another it would only get crushed.  
  
  
Gwen was snatched back from her memories as suddenly as she had drifted off. She clung to him desperately, feeling her breath becoming caught in her throat. She felt as if her lungs were shrinking bags of air, wrapping in knots in her chest. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and washed across her face, mimicking the downpour around them. She couldn't stop the flood, every feeling of guilt and anguish was now spilling down her cheeks.  
  
  
He cupped her face in his palms, staring into her charcoal smeared eyes. She couldn't stop the onslaught of tears and pressed her face against his shirt, burying it in his collar. She was shivering, whether from the cold or her state of mind she wasn't sure. She hunched over so that she was almost hugging his knees. She choked on her tears, coughing out all her emotions onto the wet pavement. David knelt down to her level, gripping her shoulders with his hands. He rested his head on her stomach and she wrapped her arms around his neck, crying into his matted hair. He rubbed her abdomen as he raised his head, coming to eye level and brushing her tears from under her eyes.  
  
  
"Don't want tears to cloud up your beautiful eyes," he whispered.  
  
  
Gwen laughed bitterly in spite of herself, wiping her tears away on her on. "Please don't play the bodice ripper hero now. That's not what I need."  
  
  
She leaned against him and he brushed her soaked hair from her face. The rain still poured down around them as they stood up, but they didn't noticed their slick clothes clinging to their skin. They stood for a moment in pure silence, before Gwen spoke.  
  
  
"I loved him. I gave him everything I had to offer, and he threw it to the gutter like yesterday's trash. I guess bad things just happen to bad people."  
  
  
David caught another tear in his fist before it had the chance to slide down Gwen's cheek.  
  
  
"I don't deserve you."  
  
  
"You're right. You don't deserve me, " he began, tilting his head to look down at her, "you deserve someone far greater."  
  
  
She was going to protest but he stifled her mouth with a kiss. Crushing her lips with his, and sucked away all her fears and doubts. "Two wretched people like us have no one but each other. Sometimes semi-bad people like ourselves get a break once in awhile."  
  
  
"Damnit David you don't even see. I am using you to make me feel better. You're just a pawn, a play thing..."  
  
  
He stopped her by pressing three fingers against her lips. "Look into my eyes and tell me you are just using me. "  
  
  
Gwen stared into the solid blue pools in front of her, and saw nothing but warmth and kindness. She reached up and laid a faint kiss on his lips. He took her hand in his, and his smile fulfilled every void she had been longing to fill.  
  
  
"What's love if not two empty, lonely halves making a whole," he stated.  
  
  
She laughed, shaking her head while smiling through her tears. "You are so full of it."  
  
  
"You know deep down you really like the sweet talk don't you?" he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  
  
  
She nodded slowly, "I guess I do."  
  
  
Gwen closed her eyes and felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders. In it's place, two loving arms pulled her in their embrace.  
  
  
When life handed Gwen Hotchkiss lemons, she made lemonade.  
  
  
And she was going to enjoy every last squeeze 


End file.
